


Overboard

by Cascaper



Series: Keeping Composure [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, missing the boi, post 4.4 feels, workin too hard is a form of self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascaper/pseuds/Cascaper
Summary: In which the Warrior seeks to distract herself from her worry, over the weeks immediately following patch 4.4.Written for the FFxivWrite2018 Challenge.





	Overboard

Of course [Name] is fine.

Look, see? Going about her days just as she always has. Making her rounds hither and yon all over the realm- to the Gatekeepers, to the Blue Kojin, to all her usual haunts. And every week, over to the Doman Enclave, there to donate aught and all she can for their restoration. (Regrowth? Eh, call it what you will. It feels good to help people flourish.)

She can guess what her friends might be thinking. If she slowed down enough to hear them, anyway. What they’ve said many a time before; to wit: _Are you all right? Are you getting enough rest? You’re not the Errand Girl of Light, you know. You’re allowed to recuperate. Shouldn’t push it… shouldn’t go overboard…_

But what good is it to be strong in the Echo, in her aether, if she doesn’t use it to fullest advantage? To get out and go. To do what she can, wherever she can. Concrete, small things: collect furs, skins, cuts of meat. Dive for pearls. Check traps. Simple tasks. Enough of them and she’s filled another day, can flop into bed at night and get that much sooner to sleep. 

Well. Closer to sleep. It’s more of a light doze at this point. 

_Save your energy. If you must travel so far daily, don’t rely overmuch on the aethernet. Take the long ways whenever you can. If you feel yourself getting aether-sick– even a little light-headed, ease up for a while. It’s not good to scatter and reform yourself so often in a day…_

Pssh. She can handle it. Of course she can.

(And Alphinaud is _out there_. Where no one can reach him. And he’ll still be _out there_ until the others wake up, until they can form a plan, until they can figure out what to do to help him or save him or…

No. Don’t think about that. If she does, her heart will shatter like an egg.)

* * *

“…I thank you for your support,” Kozakura is saying, with her usual bow. [Name] nods, smiles, hopes her fatigue is not too readily apparent. (See, she’s not in denial. She knows fatigue when it happens.) 

[Name] raises a hand in farewell. “Same time next week. See you then!” Turns on her heel… and the Enclave spins, just a bit. She digs her toes down inside her boots. Waits for the spin to settle. _You’re okay, [Name]. You’re okay._

See, there it goes. Back to normal. Now what shall she bring them next time? Some manzasiri hair, perhaps, or a bit of marid leather. Maybe she should take up carpentry one of these days. More planks for building would hardly go amiss. 

Better go over to Namai. No, not by ferry, not by bird. Just a little aether jump, not even that far. And so much faster, after all. She’s got places to do and things to be… 

Here’s the aetheryte, yes. She reaches out a hand, pictures her destination. Focus… focus… 

_Thud_. 

“Ow,” [Name] mutters, or thinks she does, and then she knows no more.

* * *

She wakes in a… semi-familiar room. All in wood, some painted red, some green, some gold. Screen on the wall with painted mountains. Lamp close by- behind her head? She thinks so. When she tries to look, though, she feels the lump on her skull- it pangs, quick but searing, making her slump back into her original position with a wince. 

The Kienkan. That’s where she is. Ah, _shite_. 

So she never left the Enclave. Never made the teleport. Probably crashed to the ground, probably lay there til someone saw. Til someone called for help. 

She hopes not many know what happened. She is sure they do.

There is a noise- footsteps- outside the door. A soft sliding sound. Gingerly, she pushes herself up on one elbow, then turns to look. 

“Oh!” She has a brief impression of a yellow kimono, pulled-back hair, dark startled eyes. “Mistress [Surname]! Lord Hien will wish to know you have awoken.” The door shuts and soft footsteps hurry away, all before [Name] can say a word. She settles back into the futon and sighs. 

“…[ame]? [Name]?” 

Hells, she must have hit her head pretty hard. Here she is blinking awake again–this time to find Hien sitting beside her. 

“Ah, there you are,” he says, flashing one of those famously cheerful smiles. (They should put him on posters or something, once reconstruction is complete. He’d have the tourists flooding in.) “You gave us rather a scare, my friend.” 

“Sorry,” she rasps. Clears her throat. Repeats- “Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you to all this trouble.”

“Oh, it is no trouble,” he replies. “Merely a chance for a visit, one which does not come often enough–especially in these times.”

“Y.. yes,” she agrees, sounding inane even to herself. “Careless of me. I won’t stay too long though. Give me a bell or so, I’ll be right as rain. Then I’ll get out of your hair, eh?” 

Hien is quiet, just long enough to make her wonder if he’s going to call her bluff outright. But all he says is, “Very well. Shall I call for some tea?” 

* * *

It is not a bell. It is several. The tea helps steady her, as do the sweets that come with it, and if she doesn’t move too fast she can almost forget the lump on her head. And Hien is waiting. 

Not silently, but he is. Beneath all his pleasant conversation, she can hear the questions- _are you all right? How did you get to this point?_

When a lull comes, she seizes it. “Look, Hien, thank you. For all of this. I …I haven’t been taking the best care of myself lately, I suppose.” (Ah, understatement. The refuge of the embarrassed.)

“You have been taking great care of my people,” he answers. “For which this is but meager repayment. Truly, it is no trouble.” 

_Gods_ he is too polite. He’s usually a bit more direct, no? She wonders why the sudden tiptoeing. “I’ll make it up to you anyway.”

“By getting the rest you’ve been missing?”

Ah, there it is. 

“…Yeah.” She drops her eyes to the blanket. “Yes, I… I should do that. I mean, I will.”

“Good,” he says, voice firm but not upset. “When your friends wake, it won’t do to show them a tired face. And running yourself ragged will not speed that day’s arrival.” 

He is right. She knows he’s right, and would tell him so, but she doesn’t trust herself to speak right now. Nodding will do. 

Until she’s got her strength properly back, there’s no sense in going overboard.


End file.
